


Skeleton Squatters and the AU

by joliemariella



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-02-10 13:39:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12913062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joliemariella/pseuds/joliemariella
Summary: A collection of one shots, some connected, others not, that take place in the universe of 'Skeleton Squatters and the Landlady' by Tyrant_Tortoise and 'Skeleton ex Machina' by me. NOT CANON to either fic.





	1. Revenge is a dish best served en flambe

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Skeleton Squatters and the Landlady](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9816140) by [Tyrant_Tortoise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tyrant_Tortoise/pseuds/Tyrant_Tortoise). 



(This was written as a continuation of [**this**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11097813/chapters/28086024) bonus chapter of Tyrant_Tortoise's Skeleton Shenanigans bonus fic (specifically the Stretch portion). It is **NOT CANON** to either Skeleton ex Machina or Skeleton Squatters and the landlady! Just kind of a fun thought exercise on my part XD Doesn’t take place at any particular time in SSLL beyond after chapter 22 when Q has been freed.)

 Stretch had put you to bed the better part of an hour ago after you’d finally cried yourself to exhaustion and fallen asleep in his lap. He’d peered down at you and gently called your name when you finally fell quiet, but when you hadn’t done more than sigh and shift to bury your face in his hoodie, he knew you were dead to the world.

So he’d carried you upstairs, tucked you in, and then gone back to the bathroom to collect your abandoned bottle. Stretch almost poured out the remainders, but he’d never been inclined to wasting booze, and besides, he thought it might send you the wrong message, make you think he was judging you for breaking down and finding solace in a bottle. Everyone had those nights, as he could well attest, and he wasn’t about to shame you for it.

Now, however, he’s in his room staring out the half open window, phone in one hand, packet of cigarettes in the other. He’s been trying to cut back for your sake, but now you’re in bed and it’s just him alone with his thoughts, and a little nicotine might go a long ways to soothing the rage that’s bubbling beneath his calm exterior.

Finally, Stretch caves and shoves the window the rest of the way open, then climbs out onto the porch roof to enjoy a smoke in peace, just him and the rising moon.

The soft click of his lighter triggers an automatic response in him that has the line of his shoulders relaxing just a fraction as he lifts the warm, golden light to the end of his cigarette. The soft fizzle and pop of the fragile paper and fragrant tobacco catching settle him another degree, as does that first, long inhale. By the time he exhales, Stretch feels less inclined to committing wholesale destruction on the nearest hapless target, and is glad for the clarity.

That rage is still there, though, simply pushed down a little further where it’s a bit easier to keep a hold of. It burns in his marrow and as soon as he starts to think about your ex again, it threatens to flare and consume him entirely the way it had been so close to doing when he’d been hunkered down in the bathroom with you while you cried yourself out.

Looking at your ex’s facebook had definitely been a mistake on your part, but he understood _that_ moment of weakness too, and he couldn’t judge you for that either. The messages the asshole had started sending you though…

Stretch inhales long and deep, impossibly so, and swears softly when he burns clean through the entire cigarette in one go and winds up burning his fingers. He drops the butt as he exhales an enormous plume of smoke that drifts off into the night sky and dusts the ash from his pants before the embers can settle and melt the synthetic fabric.

The monster lights another cigarette and forces himself to take it slow this time, though it’s a struggle. He’d only caught a glimpse of the shit that guy had been spewing every time your alerts lit up, and eventually he’d turned your phone over so he didn’t have to see anymore or he feared he might throw the device clear through the wall.

His own phone lays on the roof beside him, and as he smokes, Stretch finds his eyelights inevitably drawn to it… and the opportunity it presents.

A chance for revenge. A chance to make that stupid asshole of an ex shut his mouth for good and focus on his own bullshit instead of trying to ruin your life out of sheer pettiness. He didn’t _need_ help to make that happen, of course, but Stretch wasn’t above admitting when he could use a little assistance.

It’s a double edged sword, though. So satisfying to swing, but it could just as easily come right back on its wielder and wreak as much bloody havoc there as afield among a person’s enemies…

Stretch remembers the broken way you’d sobbed into his hoodie, though, and finds himself picking up the device and unlocking it. His thumb hovers over one button in particular, and remains there for nearly a minute as the monster’s better angels go to war with his demons. If his angels were a choir tonight, however, his demons are a heavy metal band with the amps cranked up to eleven…

He taps the button.

Q answers immediately, which is unlike him for anyone who isn’t you, and Stretch’s soul goes a little cold when his brother’s doppelganger smiles and says, “thought you were never gonna press that button. had a bet going with myself and everything.”

“oh yeah?” Stretch drawls as he pulls his cigarette from between his teeth and taps it clear of ash. “who won?”

Q leans back in his seat and steeples his fingers before him. “me, of course,” he answers, tone not quite smug but definitely… knowing. He really _had_ been waiting for him to call, Stretch realizes, and wonders how much he already knew, how long he’d been watching. “i don’t place bets i won’t win.”

“how’d you know i was going to call you?” he asks coolly, brow arched. “could’ve just as easily decided not to.”

The A.I. cants his head slightly to one side and lifts his chin a little, seeming to weigh the question while making a study of Stretch’s features. Finally, his smile widens into something downright wicked as he spreads his hands and remarks, “think of the devil and so shall he appear.”

Stretch chokes and coughs up great gales of smoke while Q laughs, the sound low and rolling from deep within his chest. “you’re so full of shit,” the taller skeleton wheezes when he can talk again.

The A.I. snorts lightly and asks, “am i? i’m the great temptation though, aren’t i? it’s one of the reasons you locked me away in the first place; i make it just _that_ much easier to make things… happen.” Stretch remains silent and Q’s smile goes cold. “real easy to ride that high horse when there’s nothing threatening the things you care about, isn’t it? but now someone’s gone and made her cry and you want to make them _pay,_ and guess who can make that happen without any of it ever getting back to you?”

Stretch continues silent for a long minute as he finishes off his second cigarette and lights up a third. Q is right, of course. He’s the one weapon they can wield without anyone in the outside world ever being the wiser…

He teeters on the edge of indecision. On the one hand is the high road, ignore your ex and help you as best he can in the here and now, and hope you were able to get over it with time. On the other hand lay not  only vengeance, but the possibility of _preventative_ action. Strike hard enough and maybe the fool wouldn’t be able to get back up to disrupt your peace of mind ever again.

The problem with eye for an eye, though, is that everyone eventually winds up blind…

Then again, in a world of blind men, a one eyed man is king.

Stretch’s gaze flicks back to the screen of his phone and he asks, “well, you going to help me or not?”

Q chuckles. It is not a kind sound, and Stretch can’t shake the feeling that he has, in fact, made a deal with the devil tonight. “oh, buddy, all you had to do was _ask._ ”

The other skeleton snorts, sending a plume of smoke gushing out from his nasal cavity, and he’s quiet for a moment before finally saying, “so, how much do you know? you been watching her messages?”

It’s a double edged question, Q can tell, but he’s able to reply honestly when he says, “believe it or not, i have other things to do besides sit around and read everyone and their mother’s texts all goddamn day.” His expression darkens, and he continues, “i caught up on the pile of steaming shit that guy was aiming her way today, though.”

“and his garbage fire of a facebook?”

Q grunts and his eyelights flicker, dangerously close to going out altogether. “as of five minutes ago, yeah.” After a moment, he presses, “tell me why she came here in the first place. it has something to do with him, doesn’t it?”

Stretch stops staring into the middle distance and looks down at the screen of his phone. There’s something familiar in the set of the A.I.’s jaw and the flat look in his eye sockets. It takes a moment, but the monster realizes he recognizes the look from the mirror. Q isn’t going to take no for an answer, and will likely cut Stretch out of proceedings altogether if he doesn’t cooperate.

So, despite it not being his story to tell, Stretch relates the state your life had been in leading up to becoming their landlady, and how your ex had treated you. The way he’d strewn your things across the lawn and wound up pinned to the wall by Edge for his efforts.

When he’s done, Stretch waits for Q to say something, and doesn’t have to do so for long. “so, what are you thinking? burn his fucking house down?” the A.I. asks.

The smile that overtakes Q’s expression in that moment is downright terrifying as his eyelights finally extinguish, leaving the other monster to stare into empty sockets the color of pitch.

The devil indeed.

Stretch takes one last drag of his cigarette, then stubs it out on the roof tile with slow, purposeful movements as he exhales and says, “burn his fucking house down.”

* * *

A little dredging through the internet reveals that your ex still lives in the house you used to rent together, and better yet, the contract he signed when he renewed his lease a few months ago has a byline that says any fire or damages resulting from a violation of property rules will be paid for by your ex.

Any other time, Stretch would be alarmed by the ease with which Q acquires all of this information, as well as your ex-boyfriend’s current location (another residence that is not his own, at the moment); but tonight he takes it in stride. Tonight, anger has burned away his usual caution as he teleports up to his room and changes into dark clothes, eschewing his usual orange hoodie in favor of a navy one that rarely sees the light of day.

“you got any headphones?” Q asks quietly from his phone, making Stretch glance at where he had left it on his bedside table.

Putting two and two together, Stretch rummages through a pile of junk and comes up with a pair of headphones with a built in mic, then drapes them over his neck.

“good. come down to the lab before you head out.”

A step and familiar twist into nothing, then Stretch is outside the door to the lab, which clicks open without his having to enter the security code. He enters and makes a beeline for Q’s room, closing the door behind him once he’s inside. The A.I. is already up on his screen, his background curiously blank, rather than dominated by the mirror lab or his living room. Stretch doesn’t ask questions, though, preoccupied as he is.

“grab the roll of black electrical tape off the shelf, that screwdriver, and some matches,” Q instructs him, pointing in the appropriate directions despite his attention mostly being on something off screen. “we’re gonna need a candle too.”

“you got any?” Stretch asks as he collects the items indicated and tucks them into the pocket of his hoodie.

The A.I. turns and squints at him. “what does this look like, pier 1 imports? no i don’t have any fucking candles.” He turns back to whatever he was looking at before and mutters, “the hell would i even use them for?”

“ambiance,” Stretch drawls and Q snorts. The taller skeleton’s eyelights rove across the tables full of tools and machinery, then adds, “not that there’s a lot of _that_ in here.”

“right, because your literal garbage dump of a room has so much feng shui it’s oozing out your ass.”

“it’s organic. my decor is whole foods level all natural, man.”

“shut up and go get the kerosine you use on the grill,” Q says impatiently.

Stretch rolls his eyelights in his sockets but leaves the lab, closing the main door quietly behind him before teleporting to the kitchen and crouching down to rummage under the sink. After a moment’s looking, he finds the bottle, still three-quarters full, at the back and adds it to the collection.

He pauses, then, crouched silently in the dark as he listens carefully for any movement within the lodge. The place is old, full of creaks and groans when someone so much as coughs, but he hears nothing now. It’s late, and everyone is either asleep, or at least in their room for the night. A rare occasion, and he thanks his lucky stars for it. Having to navigate a minefield wouldn’t have stopped him from the mission he’s set out upon tonight, but it definitely would have made things more difficult.

Stretch pulls his phone out and opens Q’s app to the messenger window so he doesn’t have to talk and risk waking someone. With deft, quick movements, he types ‘ _what about the candle?_ ’

A second later, Q’s response comes in: ‘ _left windowsill of the loft. take the cinnamon spice; she never uses it._ ’

The skeleton is tempted to ask why the other monster is so familiar with your candle burning habits, but decides to save it for later and forces himself back on task. Remaining crouched, he teleports again, this time up to the loft, and finds himself right next to the correct window. The monster squints at your collection of candles arrayed there, but isn’t able to make out the names on any of the labels.

He starts to reach for one at random, and freezes when you sigh softly from your place on the bed and turn over in your sleep. Stretch watches you for a long minute, making sure you are well and truly asleep before finally grabbing a candle and giving it an experimental sniff.

Lavender.

Something...piney.

Peach.

That one makes him squint a little, especially considering its weight in his hand, advertising its newness, but he quickly moves on. The next one smells distinctly of cinnamon, so he takes it and goes, reappearing outside in the driveway where he knows the shadows are thick, hiding him from view. He remains still for a moment, eyes taking in the lodge and the rest of his surroundings, double and triple checking for any other lodgers that might be creeping out and about so late at night.

Not as though he’s the only one prone to late night jaunts, after all. Hopefully, however, the rest of them don’t make habits of arson…

A brief moment of doubt flickers across the back of his mind as he stands there in the velvet dark, pockets heavy with the weight of the tools he’ll be using to ruin a man’s life tonight. He could still stop here, turn around and go back inside, put everything away and pretend he’d never had that conversation with Q…

Memory of your broken sobbing in his lap just an hour before kills the thought before it gets any further. The vile words your ex had used against you dug the grave, and the cruel way he’d kicked you out in the first place buried any thought of mercy six feet under.

Eye sockets narrowing as determination flared in his soul, Stretch drags his slim profile bluetooth headphones up onto his head and he turns them on before calling Q.

“took you long enough. thought you might have chickened out on me,” Q says, voice low and rolling through Stretch’s skull.

“nah,” he replies quietly as he turns and starts to the parking area. “just took me awhile to _sniff out_ the right candle to take.”

“dude.”

“what? like in the middle of enacting an arson isn’t the perfect time for candle related jokes.”

Q sighs. “i hate you. take your brother’s motorcycle; less recognizable than one of the cars.”

Stretch approaches the familiar and well loved bike, silently asking his brother’s forgiveness as he uses the screwdriver to remove the license plate, and the electrical tape to cover up the identifying markings. Anyone that knows their motorcycles will still be able to peg the model, but otherwise, the best your average layman would be be able to do is report the color.

That done, he slips everything back into his pockets and mounts up with a practiced swing of a leg. Yeah he’d been terrified Blue would wreck and die back in the day when his little brother had finally gotten his hands on a motorcycle of his own… but that doesn’t mean Stretch didn’t know his way around one. He’d gotten his license and everything.

Before he starts the bike, Stretch teleports once more, taking it and himself all the way up to the end of the drive where no one will hear the engine. It roars to life under his hands, then settles into a heady purr that belies the hours Blue has sunk into maintaining the machine.

“helmet.”

“aw, worried for me, q-tie?”

“i swear to god i will sell you out before you can fucking blink if you ever call me that again,” Q says, disgust clear in his voice even as he continues, “it’ll do a better job disguising you than your hood.”

A soft huff of amusement escapes Stretch but he agrees and dons the helmet that hangs from the back of the bike. That done, he pulls out onto the road and makes his way to the highway, keeping to the speed limit so as not to attract the attention of any cops camping out looking for easy tickets to make their monthly quota.

Unfortunately, once they hit the city limits, one particularly keen eyed officer spots the bike’s lack of plates and immediately flips on it’s lights before starting pursuit.

Stretch swears softly, but Q’s voice, oddly reassuring and completely calm simply says, “ignore them, i’ll handle it. just put some distance between you and them and get ready to turn when i say.”

Realizing his fate is in the hands of someone he does not even begin to trust, Stretch grimaces, and any other night, would question his life choices. Tonight, however, he guns it, engine roaring as he peals away from the cops, who flip on their siren and give chase.

Stretch leans into the turn as the road curves, accelerating further yet as he hits a straightaway through town in time to see every light the length of the avenue turn green in his favor, bringing the sparse traffic in the other direction to a stand still.

“i’ve run interference on their radio, they can’t call you in, and their dashcam’s fried too.”

“Bodycams?” Stretch asks as he roars through a forty-five at almost seventy-five, cops two blocks behind and closing.

There’s a moment of silence and then, “done. can your teleport reach the rest of the way?”

“how far is it from here?” Stretch asks, then grunts as he’s forced to dodge around a car trying to claim the intersection for a turn, narrowly avoiding clipping his knee on their bumper. “stupid son-of-a-” he mutters, though is pleased to see that the cops at least are forced to slow down to make the same maneuver, buying him more space.

“mile and a half to the north-west,” Q answers. Just as Stretch is about to make the jump, the A.I. quickly adds, “don’t do it in the open! take the next left and do it then. they’ll think you’re trying to lose them down in the warehouse district.”

“yeah, yeah, i got it,” the monster grumbles, annoyed that the other skeleton had actually had to remind him. Magically disappearing into the air in the middle of a chase with the cops would have been a dead giveaway to him being a monster.

Seeing the turn Q mentioned, Stretch breaks hard, kicking the back wheel out so he drifts smoothly into the side street with a shriek of burning rubber. Only his enhanced strength lets him muscle the bike back up in time to avoid the car parked along the curb, and he throws his weight back to the right to avoid hitting the opposite sidewalk before finally straightening out and teleporting away.

He lands in the parking lot of the park down the road from your ex’s house, and he realizes it’s a good thing he hadn’t teleported while still going seventy down the thoroughfare as he’d been about to, since it still takes him every spare foot of asphalt to come to a stop without skidding dramatically and making a lot of noise that could potentially draw attention.

Finally loosening his grip on the handles of the bike, Stretch kills the engine and takes a moment to catch his breath. “how are we looking?” he asks Q as he pulls off his helmet then drags the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head before dismounting and engaging the kickstand.

There’s a moment of silence, and then, “you’re clear. they think you’re camped out in the warehouses somewhere, they won’t come this way.”

Stretch grunts in answer, but after a moment, moves his brother’s bike into the furthest shadowed reaches of the parking lot, well away from the streetlights where it’s unlikely to be noticed by anyone walking past, let alone driving.

Q lets him do so without commentary, and then the monster turns and starts off at a brisk walk across the grass, the cool night air washing over his angular features and returning his calm. “you remember the house layout?” he asks Stretch as he walks.

“the downstairs for sure. i’ll be able to jump in fine. you’re certain there’s no one there?”

There’s a grunt of assurance from the other end of the line, and then, “we’ll double check to be sure. you’re about three blocks off now, jump as you pass that hedge.”

Stretch glances around him and notes the hedge in question where it grows at the edge of a yard and casts a deep shadow across the sidewalk. The house across the way is dark, so the monster does as instructed, pushing off pavement with one foot, and then landing on carpet with the next as the absolute darkness of the void fades into the kinder darkness of an empty house.

Stretch stands there for a moment, silent as he listens closely for any telltale sign that he might not be alone. When he hears nothing, he relaxes a little and strides quietly across the living room and begins checking the house one room at a time to be certain it is well and truly empty. The bridge of the skeleton’s nasal bone wrinkles as he does. The house is well and truly a mess with dirty dishes left piled high in the sink and scattered around the living room. Your ex clearly doesn’t bother with laundry very often either, judging by the piles of it in his room. Stretch is by no means a clean freak (completely the opposite, really), but this is a bit much even for him.

That, or perhaps it’s just the memory of the fact that _you_ used to live here, once upon a time, and now your idiot ex has let it go to complete garbage…

The anger that had been simmering deep in Stretch’s soul hadn’t died down at all since coming to his resolution to take matters into his own hands back on the roof of the lodge, but it definitely picks up to a brisk boil as he makes his way through the house.

“we’re clear,” he tells Q when he finishes his rounds. “no pets or anything either, looks like.”

“gotcha. time to get to work then. find a good place for the candle and make use of that kerosene.”

Stretch pulls your cinnamon spice candle out of his pocket and looks around the living room for a good place to put it. Unfortunately, there’s not really anywhere that could convincingly go up in flames with a candle left unattended thanks to the arrangement of the furniture, so he heads back to the bedroom.

An unkind smile crosses the monster’s face as he eyes the room with an arsonist’s turn of mind and notes that it’s a minefield of flammability. There’s laundry everywhere, wadded up blankets and overstuffed pillows… best of all, however, are the trailing curtains directly above the bedside table. “bingo,” he mutters and moves to the bedside to start his work.

“whatcha got?” Q asks.

“long curtains over a side table,” he replies. “accident waiting to happen,” Stretch adds with a low, ominous chuckle as he puts the candle down and takes out his bottle of kerosene. He gives it a considering look, then tosses it idly up and down with one hand, listening to the contents slosh before asking, “you’re sure about this kerosene though? what about forensics? they’re not going to be able to tell kerosene was involved?”

The snort that echoes through Stretch’s headphones is nothing short of dismissive. “no, fire forensics is a bullshit pseudoscience when it comes to house fires. as long as you don’t leave the bottle behind or dump a bunch of it somewhere it might not burn up we’ll be fine.”

Stretch hums thoughtfully, then shrugs and uncaps the metal bottle and begins to douse the curtains, laundry, and bed. When he’s done, the place reeks of kerosene and he makes sure to tuck the bottle back into his pocket so he won’t lose it. He stands there for a moment, staring down at the unlit candle as the weight of the moment settles over him. Is he really going to do this? Burn down a man’s house for making a woman cry?

The monster slips his hand back into the pocket of his hoodie, fingers fetching up against the matches he put there before leaving the lodge. He doesn’t pull them out, but fiddles with them absently as he thinks, frown furrowing his brow.

He hadn’t just made you cry though, had he? He’d taken advantage of you for years. Used and abused your kindness to his advantage, isolated you from your friends, subjected you to the ridicule of your family, and tried to control your every action…

“second thoughts?”

Q’s voice isn’t accusatory, but there is a note of curiosity to it, as though they’ve reached a moment he’s been waiting for. No doubt the A.I. has been wondering the entire time if his partner in crime will actually follow through with their plan. Would he cross that last line in the sand for you or back down at the last moment…?

Stretch pulls out a match and flicks it with the end of his thumb, watching as the small, golden flame flares to life and fills his nose with the scent of sulfur. He regards it thoughtfully for a moment, then tosses it carelessly onto the curtains, which immediately catch fire with a soft ‘whumpf’.

“nah,” he replies, then reaches into his back pocket as the fire begins to spread and pulls out a cigarette. He uses the flames that have spread to the bed to light it, and takes a drag before teleporting away.

From the shadows of a copse of trees across the street and down the road a little ways, Stretch watches the house as it is consumed from within. He holds up his phone so Q can watch as well, and while he might have found the smug satisfaction on the AI’s expression disturbing on a normal day, Stretch suspects he’s not looking much better.

He knows this won’t help you, not really. The fire may sear all physical reminders of your life together with your ex from the face of the Earth, but the psychological scars will remain. Still, it feels good knowing the pain it’ll cause the bastard that hurt you, who made you cry. If they’re lucky, maybe you’ll hear about it and feel a little better about the state of the world.

Sometimes you have to make your own karma, after all.

“‘thanks’ seems like the wrong thing to say here, but i can’t really think of anything else,” Q muses as the distant blare of sirens reaches them.

Stretch snorts softly and teleports back to his brother’s bike where he pauses just long enough to remove the tape covering the distinguishing marks and replace the plates.

“how about, ‘let’s never speak of this again’?” Stretch suggests as he drags off his hoodie and shoves it into one of the bike’s carry bags before mounting up and putting on his helmet.

Q chuckles, “fair enough.”

The A.I. remains with Stretch all the way back to the driveway, guiding him around a police car that is still actively looking for him to save him a great deal of trouble. He doesn’t say anything when he goes, just ends the call as his partner in crime kills the engine and dismounts so he can roll the bike back down the driveway.

He doesn’t really need to. They’ll never speak of this again if everything goes according to plan, and neither of them would have it any other way.


	2. Mystery Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this ended up way fucking longer than anticipated 8'D  
> Just as a side note, this DOES take place in the same alternate timeline as chapter one ;) It doesn't have any impact on this chapter at all, but jsyk haha.  
> Remember to leave a review and let me know what your favorite part was! I love hearing that!  
> If you're not familiar with my character Myst, check out [his FAQ here](https://jolie-in-the-underground.tumblr.com/post/169344570555/about-myst-mysts-concept-at-its-most-simple-is)!

It was a bright, cold day as you trudged through the newly fallen snow on the forest path with your phone held out in front of you. You were normally better about keeping your nose out of your phone while out walking, but in this instance you thought you were excused. After all, you weren’t texting, you were making use of the trap detecting app Q had made you for Gyftmas. 

Your lodgemates had gotten better about keeping their traps and puzzles off the main paths you took through the woods to visit the other cabins on the property, but sometimes… well, sometimes they got carried away and forgot.

_ Especially  _ Edge and Black.

They’d been at each other’s metaphorical (and occasionally literal) throats lately, and were intent on one-upping each other with the superior trap. You were pretty sure it was some sort of strange territory dispute between the two, as well as a test of skills, but you weren’t certain. Whatever the reason, you silently thanked your A.I. friend for his timely gift every time you had to leave the lodge and go into the woods.

The snow you’d been walking through had been mostly untouched since you’d been making a loop of the property, so you were a little surprised when you came across a stretch of path that had already been disturbed. Granted, as you looked closer at it, you realized that there were no footprints leading to or from the site, making you wonder if perhaps some birds hadn’t landed in the path before taking off again.

Very  _ large _ birds.

“Pardon me, miss,” asked an unfamiliar voice from overhead.

You let out a startled shriek and jumped forward, half expecting someone to drop down on you from above. When no one did, you turned hesitantly and looked up to see something, or rather  _ someone,  _ tied upside down to a tree trunk nearly fifteen feet in the air.

“Uh-” was all you managed as you stared at the hapless victim of one of your lodger’s traps.

“I’m terribly sorry,” he said in a perfectly calm, pleasant baritone as he smiled down at you. “I didn’t mean to startle you, but I seem to find myself in something of a predicament,” he continued patiently as you stared.

He had a British accent.

“Yeah,” you finally managed. “Looks like you’ve got yourself in quite the pickle.”

The stranger chuckled, and you wondered at his ability to be so calm in such uncomfortable circumstances. On the other hand, now that you were  _ really  _ looking at him, you realized that he was a skeleton, so at least he wasn’t having to worry about blood rushing to his head. You knew quite a lot of skeletons these days, but this one was new and particularly strange, even by the standards of the company  _ you _ keep. 

For one, his bones were black, as though they had been carved from coal. For another, rather than being pits of impenetrable dark, the strange skeleton’s eye sockets glowed with a soft, white light. Where your friends had eyelights, this monster had… well, quite the opposite. Points of darkness that tracked you the same way your own eyes watched him.

“You’re certainly not wrong,” he mused pleasantly, and smiled at you widely enough to reveal a set of very sharp, white teeth.

He was a lot like Q in the physicality department, you noted, blinking in the face of his grin. He had lips, and from what little you could see of his shoulders, they seemed to fill out his sweater (or whatever he was wearing under all that rope) quite a lot more solidly than your physical lodgers.

“Who are you?” you ask. Normally you’d be much faster to jump in and offer your help, but, well… a strange looking skeleton on your property, and nowhere near the main lodge… it made even your trusting nature lift a questioning brow. Besides, lacking a circulatory system the way you’re certain he does, you’re not afraid for his health, hanging upside down or not.

The stranger blinked and an apologetic expression came over his angular features. “My apologies, how rude of me. My name is Myst.” He smiled again and had such a look of earnestness about him that you introduced yourself in turn without a second thought. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he said, and you were inclined to believe him.

You couldn’t help but smile in turn now. You weren’t used to this much politeness, though coming from most people you were pretty sure it would put you off or make you even  _ more  _ suspicious. Coming from Myst, however, it was charming; a breath of fresh air.

Maybe it was the accent.

“Mind if I ask what you’re doing hanging upside down from a tree on my property?” you asked, tone not antagonistic, but certainly curious.

“Ah,” Myst said, looking vaguely embarrassed now. “Actually, I was in the area and happened to stumble into what appears to be a rather cunning trap.” He looked down (up?) at the ropes that bound him from shoulder to ankle, leaving him not an inch to wiggle, let alone to escape, then back at you. “Would it be a terrible imposition if I asked you to cut me down?”

Well,  _ whatever  _ his business was on your property, and the fact that he hadn’t answered your question did not go unnoticed by you, you weren’t about to leave him tied to a tree. That said, the tree to which Myst was bound wasn’t exactly the kind to be easily scaled without a ladder.

“Don’t worry, I won’t leave you  _ hanging, _ ” you say, unable to resist the joke. You really had been hanging out with the guys too much.

“Very witty,” Myst said, still smiling. Looking at him though, you had no idea if he genuinely found the pun funny, or if he was just sucking up for the sake of getting down. Despite his outward friendliness, you were beginning to realize just how difficult to read he actually was, even by skeleton standards. “However, if perhaps we could save the jokes for later, I would appreciate it. I’ve been trapped like this since two-”

You glanced at your phone and noted with some horror that it was already going on five. “Three hours?!” you exclaimed, feeling guilty that you’d left going for help this long.

“Two pm  _ yesterday, _ ” he finished, looking rueful as you blanched at this news. “I did shout for awhile, but you’re the first person I’ve seen since I arrived.”

You didn’t doubt it. This section of the property had the lowest density of cabins, and the path wasn’t frequently used. “Oh my god, I’ll go get help, you just hang on!” You said and rushed off towards the cabin.

Myst watched you go, wondering absently if the joke had been an intentional one. Judging by your frantic movements, though, he had to guess not. You disappeared quickly out of sight and he was alone once more, leaving him to sigh and attempt to settle himself more comfortably in his bonds. Still, at least there was some hope of rescue in the near future now, and by a rather charming young lady to boot.

* * *

Walking as quickly as you safely could through the snow and ice, you closed the trap detecting app and pulled up Q’s. He answered almost immediately.

“hey there, peaches,” the A.I. said with his usual crooked grin. “what’s up?”

“Hey, sorry to bug you, but do you know where Edge or Black are?” you asked, slightly breathless from the quick pace you set.

Q’s brow furrowed some at the question, but you saw him bring up a secondary interface bearing what you recognized as a map of the lodge and the surrounding area. “K’s all the way up at his place, but Edge isn’t far if you cut left through the clearing you’re in right now.”

You did as you were told, and after a correction or two on your heading, you were making a beeline towards Edge. Or, at least, wherever Edge had left his phone.

“so what’s up, angel?” Q asked, falling back on his new nickname for you. Normally it’d make you blush, but you were distracted enough that it didn’t have the usual effect. “what’s got your feathers ruffled?”

“Well I was coming back to the lodge the long way through the woods and I found someone stuck in one of Black or Edge’s traps. Not sure which.”

“someone?” Q asked, curiosity plain on his features. “anyone i know?”

“I don’t think so,” you said, kicking yourself a little for not asking more questions before haring off for help. On the other hand, the poor guy had been hanging upside down from a tree for over twenty-four hours. You could always ask questions later. “He said his name was Myst,” you added, glancing down at your phone in hopes of seeing some spark of recognition from your friend.

There was none, however. “never heard of him. what’d he look like?” You described the strange monster and Q’s brows went up higher yet. “well if he’s anyone we know of, he’s not in the database.”

“He said he was looking for something, but I never figured out what,” you said, but paused when movement in your periphery caught your attention. You could see Edge through the trees and you picked up your pace. “I’ll call you back,” you told Q.

“alright, call if you need me, and keep me updated.”

You flashed him a brief smile before hanging up, then called out to get your lodgemate’s attention. “Edge! Edge, wait up!”

Hearing his name called, the towering skeleton paused and looked around with a frown. On seeing you hurrying towards him, his eye sockets widened fractionally in surprise, but he did not move towards you to make your journey any shorter.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING OUT HERE?” He asked as you stopped and fought to catch your breath, which burst out of you in great, white plumes, filling the air between you. Chasing about after him was strange enough behavior that he skipped any of his usual mockery and asked, “DID SOMETHING HAPPEN?” You nodded quickly, but didn’t answer fast enough for his tastes as he leaned in and demanded, “WELL, WHAT IS IT?! SPIT IT OUT ALREADY!”

“Th-there’s someone stuck in a trap!” you finally managed to gasp out. “Back that way,” you elaborated, pointing back the way you had come. Edge’s eyes narrowed and his gaze followed your finger as a thoroughly wicked grin passed over his long, angular features.

“HAH! AT LAST! IT’S BLACK, ISN’T IT? I FINALLY CAUGHT HIM!”

“Uh, no,” you say as Edge started off and you hurried after him, legs burning with the effort of keeping up with his long strides. Maybe you’d been cooped up too much this winter; you were feeling really out of shape with all this running around. “I don’t know who he is, he says his name is Myst, though.”

Edge looked back over his shoulder at you and frowned. “WHO THE HELL IS THAT?”

“I just said I don’t know!”

The skeleton scoffed but kept moving, and it wasn’t long before you were back where you had started, staring up at the peculiar, dark boned skeleton tied to a tree.

“Oh, that was much faster than anticipated, thank you very much,” Myst said with a smile down at you that you can’t help but return. His attention drifted to Edge, who was squinting up at him suspiciously, and something akin to recognition flickered across his features. “Ah,” he mused, “I should have known.”

“WHAT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?” Edge asked, frown deepening as he crossed his arms over his chest and made no move to cut the other monster free.

You glanced between them, and asked, “Have you met before?”

Your lodgemate didn’t look down at you. “NO, OF COURSE NOT.”

“Not at all,” Myst remarked simply. “I do, however, have no doubt that this is the cunning trap master responsible for my current predicament.” To your amusement, the victim of Edge’s troublesome hobby didn’t appear particularly bothered by this. In fact, he seemed intrigued. “To whom do I credit my rather ingenious capture?”

Edge’s frown eased and he gave Myst a considering look. It occurred to you that it was likely no one ever subjected to one of his traps had complimented him on their construction before. If he was trying to butter your lodgemate up, you suspected it might be working.

“YOU ADDRESS THE TERRIBLE PAPYRUS! CAPTAIN OF THE SNOWDIN ROYAL GUARD, AND MASTER OF TRAPS!” the skeleton said with an elaborate flourish of a gloved hand and, to your surprise, an elegant half bow.

Your eyebrows shot up and you glanced from Edge to his captive, then said, “Mostly we call him Edge, though.”

He shot you an ugly look for spoiling his introduction and you just shrugged as you struggled not to smile. “You should have just called yourself that in the first place,” you chided him.

Edge looked ready to argue, but refrained, knowing they weren’t supposed to be casually bandying about the fact that there were a bunch of skeletal doppelgangers running around the place. “‘EDGE’  _ IS _ … SIMPLER HERE, ALL THINGS CONSIDERED” he admitted to Myst.

“Ah,” the other skeleton said, clearly not understanding, but willing to let it go for the sake of getting down. “Well, Captain, it is a pleasure to make the acquaintance of such an accomplished trap maker. I’ve come across an astonishing number of them in my day, and let me tell you, I did not see this one coming.”

Edge looked smug now. “OF COURSE YOU DIDN’T! I-”

You rolled your eyes and tugged on one of Edge’s sleeves, interrupting him before he could go on a self-congratulatory rant. “Will you just cut him down already! The poor guy’s been stuck up there since  _ yesterday! _ ”

He scowled and pulled his sleeve from your grip. “WE HAVE NO IDEA WHO HE ACTUALLY IS OR WHAT HE’S DOING HERE BEYOND ‘LOOKING FOR SOMETHING’,” Edge snapped. “I’M NOT ABOUT TO LET HIM DOWN UNTIL I HAVE SOME ANSWERS!”

“And answers I will readily give!” Myst cut in hopefully. “If I could do so with my feet on the  _ ground,  _ however, I would be deeply appreciative, Captain.”

“We might as well ask him questions back at the lodge,” you pointed out. “It’s freezing out here and I really don’t want someone dying of hypothermia tied to a tree on my property!  _ Not  _ a good look for the cops, trust me.”

He bared his fangs at the both of you, but threw his hands in the air, relenting. “FINE!” Edge said, then rounded on Myst and jabbed a finger in his direction before continuing, “BUT I WILL BE TYING YOUR HANDS AND FEET SO YOU CANNOT ESCAPE BEFORE YOU GIVE US OUR ANSWERS!”

“Edge-” you begin, frowning at this ultimatum.

“Please, miss, it is a reasonable stipulation and I acquiesce to the good captain’s demands willingly,” Myst said gently with a reassuring smile that made you sigh and give up the argument.

Edge smirked at you, but you just rolled your eyes until there was a flash of crimson magic and the ropes holding Myst in place suddenly dropped away. You flinched sympathetically as the skeleton fell to the ground and hit with a grunt. Before you or he could move, Edge was on him, a scrap of rope from his trap in hand as he pulled both of Myst’s hands behind his back and bound his wrists with quick, efficient movements. The ease with which he got the job done made you wonder just how frequently he had done something like this back in his home reality. You knew his timeline was much rougher than this one; maybe he’d taken lots of prisoners in the past.

When Edge proceeded to hobble Myst with a second length of rope, though, you objected. “Oh come on, this is absurd!”

The monster shot you a hard look as he kept going with his task. “I DON’T WANT HIM RUNNING, AND I’M NOT ABOUT TO CARRY HIM,” he said as he finished and then dragged Myst up to his feet.

“No need to worry about that,” Myst remarked as his legs started to buckle with the effort of supporting him after so long spent hanging upside down. You reached out to stabilize him, and were surprised when Edge beat you to it. He grasped the other monster by the forearm and hauled up upright again, which earned him a grateful look from Myst. “A gentleman  _ and  _ a captain, I see,” he said with a smile.

Edge snatched his hand back as though the other skeleton had burned him, magic suffusing his cheekbones. “I JUST DIDN’T WANT TO PICK YOU UP AGAIN!” he insisted and you had to struggle to suppress a laugh.

“Well, you have my thanks regardless,” Myst said and started walking down the path ahead of you without having to be prompted. 

Edge followed after, teeth grit tight as he kept a wary eye on his captive. If he was worried Myst might make a break for it he needn’t have been; the rope he’d hobbled the monster with kept his stride short, making the walk a little slow even for you. You didn’t mind, however, as it gave you a chance to get a better look at Myst.

Now that he was upright and on the ground, you realized he was quite a bit taller than you’d thought when he’d been tied to the tree. He wasn’t quite as tall as Edge, but that still left him a good bit taller than you. His clothes were unusual, most notable was the long, white cloak that reached his ankles, as well as a pair of matching pants and boots. The sweater he wore was a shade of black even darker than his bones, and as he walked you noted that he had a satchel strapped to his belt, anchored by a second strap around his femur. Curious, you matched his stride and asked, “So, where are you from?”

He smiled, and despite all those extremely sharp looking teeth, the expression was a warm one. “Nowhere in particular these days,” he admitted. “I travel a great deal.”

“EVERYONE’S FROM SOMEWHERE,” Edge cut in skeptically as he fell into step with the two of you rather than lingering behind to burn holes in his captive’s back with his piercing gaze.

Myst’s smile turned melancholy and he shrugged. “True enough, Captain; until such a time as that place ceases to exist and it  _ becomes  _ nowhere.”

Edge frowned, but did not challenge Myst further on the subject, for which you were grateful. Instead, he asked, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE? THIS IS PRIVATE PROPERTY! YOU HAVE NO BUSINESS WANDERING AROUND MY TERRITORY AND GETTING CAUGHT IN TRAPS NOT MEANT FOR YOU!”

You raised a brow at his ‘my territory’ statement, but left it in favor of hearing Myst’s answer. The skeleton hesitated, but when he saw the way Edge’s eyes narrowed he said, “I am looking for something that I believe is somewhere nearby.”

“WHICH IS?”

“I have no idea,” he replied with an easy smile that made Edge scoff.

“LYING WILL DO YOU NO GOOD,” he growled threateningly, leaning in towards Myst with his teeth bared. “GIVE ME A STRAIGHT ANSWER OR REGRET THE CONSEQUENCES!”

You and Edge’s relationship had always been rocky, but with the exception of the day he’d help you pick up your things from the house you’d shared with your ex, you’d never thought of him as being particularly threatening. Prickly, short tempered, and annoying for sure, but not truly  _ dangerous. _

Looking at him now, however, it occurred to you that you might have been wrong.

In any case, you’re pretty certain you couldn’t have been as cool under Edge’s regard as Myst was in that moment. Rather than glaring back, though, the darker skeleton lowered his gaze and said, “Your concern does you credit, Captain, but I assure you I mean no one any harm.” His captor snorted, so he continued, “I don’t know  _ exactly  _ what I am looking for, only that I need help fixing something, so in my travels I zero in on centers of particularly advanced technology in hopes of finding someone that might be able to assist.” He glanced between the two of you. “Believe it or not, I followed a very promising signal all the way out here to the middle of these lovely woods of yours before I stumbled across your trap. Would you happen to know what I am looking for?”

Your gaze met Edge’s for just a moment at this explanation, but apparently it was enough for Myst to put it together.

“Ah, I see. You  _ do  _ know,” he said, smiling.

“Uh-” you began, then hesitated, unsure of what to do. First Myst had been just a stranger in a trap, then a prisoner, and now… well, things were becoming more complicated by the minute.

Edge gave Myst a light push and said, “NO MORE TALKING FROM YOU. WHAT WE DO OR DO NOT KNOW IS NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS.”

Myst opened his mouth to say something, then seemed to think better of it and shut it again.

“Should we-” you began hesitantly, only to be cut off by Edge.

“I DON’T CARE. SANS CAN DEAL WITH IT. KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT UNTIL THEN. I WON’T HAVE HIM BLAMING  _ ME  _ FOR YOUR MISTAKES.”

You scowled. “ _ My  _ mistakes?! You’re the one that trapped him in the first place!”

“YES, AND I’M DEALING WITH IT!” He hissed back angrily.

“By foisting the problem off on Sans! That’s some great leadership skills there, ‘Captain’,” you snapped.

Edge’s crimson eyes blazed bright in his fury. “WHAT ELSE WOULD YOU HAVE ME DO? WOULD YOU PREFER I HANDLED IT ‘MY WAY’?” He leaned in close and snarled, “I ASSURE YOU, HUMAN, YOU WOULD NOT LIKE THE WAY WE HANDLE INTERLOPERS WHERE I COME FROM. YOUR DELICATE SENSIBILITIES COULDN’T HANDLE THE CLEAN UP!”

You paled at what he was implying, and though you hated to do it, you dropped your eyes from his in defeat. Edge always frustrated you, but in this instance you had to admit that he was right. Unofficial though the title was, Sans  _ was  _ the de facto leader of the strange group that had taken up residence in your grandfather’s lodge.

Myst, meanwhile, wisely kept quiet, and luckily it wasn’t long before you came into sight of the lodge. As you both lead him towards the front steps, he looked at you and asked, “A charming home, is it yours?”

You blinked a little at the question as Edge yanked open the front door and stormed inside. “Yeah, actually. I inherited it from my grandfather and I’ve been renting rooms to the guys.”

You didn't get to say more as Edge overrode all conversation when he marched to the base of the stairs and bellowed, “SANS! SANS, COME DOWN HERE THIS INSTANT!”

You winced a little at the racket as you closed the door behind you and lead Myst towards the stairs with the intent of guiding him into the living room so the poor monster could at least sit down while the others grilled him.

“Sorry about this,” you told him with an apologetic grimace. “They're good guys, I promise.” You scowled at Edge as you passed him, and added, “Well, mostly.”

The skeleton just sneered at you and Myst said, “Don't trouble yourself over it, miss. I've had worse receptions, believe me.” He chuckled and started to say more, but stopped when he unexpectedly came face-to-face with Papyrus, who had come from the living room to investigate all the noise.

“OH!” he said, startled by the near run in, though his eye sockets widened further when he noted the stranger you were with. “I DIDN'T REALIZE WE WERE HAVING COMPANY! WHO'S YOUR FRIEND?” he asked you brightly, missing the fact that Myst was bound hand and foot thanks to the fall of his cape.

“Uh-” you began, flummoxed on what to tell your friend. You glanced sidelong at Myst and were perturbed by the intrigued expression he wore. His peculiar eyes flicked up and down, giving Papyrus the once over.

“My name is Myst,” he said with an easy-going smile. “Allow me to guess; you're Papyrus?”

“WOWIE! HOW DID YOU KNOW?”

At his question, Edge jerked around sharply, eyes narrowed, just as Sans appeared at the base of the stairs. You wanted to groan, but managed to repress the urge as you saw Stretch sit up from where he had been sprawled out on the living room sofa to get a better look at what was going on.

Myst immediately noticed the movement, and one of his brows went up as he met Stretch's gaze. “Fascinating,” he murmured as the other monster frowned and got to his feet. The captive skeleton glanced back towards Edge and remarked, “Captain, I begin to understand why you go by a nickname. It must be terribly inconvenient to share a house with two other versions of yourself.”

Edge didn't reply, but crossed his arms over his chest and looked pointedly in your direction, as though blaming you for the rapidly developing mess. You shrugged at him and he rolled his eyelights. How were you supposed to know Myst would immediately be able to pick up on the fact that everyone in the lodge was technically just variations on two different people? You'd readily bought the story that they were all extended family when you’d first met them, but no one had even had a chance to feed Myst that lie before he'd recognized the truth. Glancing around, you had a feeling you weren't the only one wondering what kind of life the monster lived that he jumped to the multiverse conclusion so quickly.

“what's going on?” Sans finally asked, gaze going from the lodge's impromptu guest, to you.

You hardly even knew where to begin, and your moment of hesitation allowed Myst to speak up first. “My apologies,” he said politely as he turned to face the shorter skeleton. “My name is Myst. You must be Sans,” the stranger continued, then added with a chuckle, “I'd offer to shake your hand, but,” he shifted his arms some, revealing that his hands were bound at the wrist.

“I found him in one of Edge's traps on the way back to the lodge,” you jumped in to clarify. “I couldn't get him out myself, though, so I went and got Edge to cut him down and then he tied him up!”

Edge himself looked completely unrepentant when Sans crooked a brow and looked up at him. “WE HAVE NO IDEA WHAT HE'S DOING HERE, JUST THAT HE'S 'LOOKING FOR SOMETHING',” he defended with some very sarcastic air quotes.

“WHAT KIND OF SOMETHING?”

You all glanced around to see Blue standing on the landing of the stairs as Red watched from a few steps above him, a frown on his face.

Myst blinked. “Two more Sanses, I see,” he said and looked around at the group, mentally matching everyone up. “Something... quite peculiar has happened here, hasn't it? Are there any more of you about?” he asked, seeming genuinely curious.

“how about you answer our questions first, buddy, and then we'll  _ think  _ about answering yours,” Red cut in when it looked as though Blue and Papyrus both were about to say something.

While their guest was distracted, you noticed a look pass between Sans and Stretch as the shorter of the two monsters subtly gestured to his eyes, then pointed to Myst.

“A reasonable enough stipulation, I suppose,” Myst replied. “I-”

While you watched, Stretch's right eyelight went dark, and his left flared bright orange as he focused on the center of Myst's back... then just as quickly dropped to the ground, screaming.

Everyone immediately snapped around to look at him with varying degrees of concern. Edge looked confused and irked, while Sans and Red shared a horrified glance that went from their fellow monster where he writhed on the ground, to Myst himself. Papyrus was worried and alarmed, but he didn't have anything on Blue, who vaulted the banister and sprinted to his brother's side.

“PAPY!” he exclaimed as he slid to a stop on the living room carpet and tried to grab Stretch's wrists so he could pry his hands from his face. “PAPY, WHAT'S WRONG?”

The screaming went on and on and you stood frozen in shock as you watched Stretch fight his brother's hold until he was able to cover his eye sockets once more, though it didn't seem to make any difference in whatever he was seeing. He pushed backwards until he came up against the wall, entire body shaking. “make it stop!” he shouted. “stop! it's not-” his words became garbled as an uncharacteristic whimper tore from his chest and a particularly violent shiver shook his frame.

“Why? Why do they always have to look?!” Myst lamented to himself, voice pained as you turned to look at him just as he took a step towards Stretch. He was brought up short by both Sans and Red as they each grabbed him by an arm and hauled him back, expressions of cold fury on both their pale faces.

“ **what did you do,** ” Red demanded, voice low and snarling.

“I didn't  _ do  _ anything!” Myst countered as he tried to pull free of their hold, but to no avail. “He just  _ had _ to look without asking!” the dark skeleton snapped. “You judges never ask permission first, or I would have  _ warned  _ him not to look at my soul! It's not meant to be seen!”

You stared at Myst, and then back at Stretch where Blue was doing his best to keep his brother from harming himself. Look at his soul? Had you known your friends could do that?

The conversation playing out around him went completely unheard by Stretch himself, and the fact that his brother was physically restraining him didn't even register in the face of what his magic was forcing him to see. His hands could not block his view of an impossible soul that existed in spiraling fractals echoing out through all existence. It was as though someone had taken an infinite string of monster souls and forced them all into a single time and place in reality until they fused into something Stretch could only compare to the heart of a star.

The sight, impossible to comprehend though it was, was beautiful and terrible in equal measures. The unnaturalness of it made the monster want to vomit even as his gaze remained locked on it, unable to look away from this crime against the laws of nature. The immensity of it seemed to weigh down the very fabric of reality, stretching it until it warped and struggled not to tear outright.

Watching it was like watching the universe burn. Stretch was staring into the heart of a paradox, and he could feel his sanity beginning to fray under the onslaught.

Realizing he wouldn't be pulling away from his captors, Myst turned to Blue and said “Turn him over!”

Tears threatening in the corners of his eye sockets, Blue turned to look at him, brow creased with worry and confusion. His eyelights unconsciously flicked to Sans, though the other monster was at just as much a loss as him. “BUT-” he began, only to be cut off.

“If you don't want his mind to burn, then  _ Turn. Him. Over, _ ” Myst commanded in a tone that brooked no argument.

Blue only hesitated a moment before doing as he was told. Or trying to, anyways. Stretch actively fought him, and it wasn't until Papyrus jumped to his aide that they managed to turn his brother so he was finally able to break his line of sight with Myst's soul.

When he did, the change was immediate. Stretch's formerly rigid, shuddering figure relaxed, sagging in Papyrus and Blue's arms like a puppet with its strings cut. His screams died down to incomprehensible muttering and everyone in the room heaved a sigh of relief. 

In their distraction, Sans and Red’s hold on Myst slackened, allowing him to pull free and enter the living room proper. Something dropped to the floor as he did so, and you realized it was the length of rope Edge had bound the monster’s wrists with. It was still knotted and uncut, unlike the hobble that had restrained his ankles. You weren’t sure how, but Myst had worked his way free of his bonds without anyone the wiser.

Before his captors could react, Myst crouched next to Blue and asked, “Are his eyes back to normal?”

The shorter skeleton stared at him for a moment, not seeming to comprehend the question until he gave himself a shake and carefully bent to check. While Stretch was dazed and his eyelights were unfocused, it was obvious that the magic he’d been using a minute before was no longer active, so Blue nodded. He was, however, still muttering incoherently to himself and twitching occasionally; it made your heart ache to see your friend like that.

Myst nodded, then, in a firm, but gentle tone, said, “Alright, turn him over and I’ll do what I can to help.”

“IT COULD BE THAT YOU’VE DONE MORE THAN ENOUGH,” Edge remarked from across the room, eyes narrowed as he bent down and collected the bit of rope Myst had escaped.

“boss is right, step away from him,” Red agreed, sharp teeth bared as he too entered the living room. He carefully pushed you behind him as he passed, and still stunned by events, you let him.

Myst, however, ignored them both and with an encouraging look to Blue and Papyrus, rolled Stretch over so he lay on his back, head in his brother’s lap. “Have a great deal of experience helping people cope with paradox exposure, do you?”

Red paused, then glanced back at Sans. His doppelganger grimaced and shrugged, clearly having no experience in the field himself. Myst, meanwhile, gently gripped Stretch’s chin with his dark fingers and turned him so they were face-to-face.

“Papyrus,” he said, voice low, gentle, and soothing. “Papyrus, look at me.”

The strange monster pointed at his eyes, and the movement seemed to help Stretch focus some so their gazes finally met. He stirred a little when they did, and Myst began to speak again, voice gone strange, as though there were many people speaking in unison with him.

“ _ You’re alright _ ,” he murmured. “ _ I’m going to tell you something very important, and then, when I snap my fingers, you’re going to go to sleep. When you wake, you will feel rested and the things you saw will be a long distant memory. _ ” Stretch nodded minutely, gaze locked on Myst’s until the darker skeleton leaned in very close and murmured something not even Blue and Papyrus could make out. When he pulled away again, he snapped his fingers and Stretch’s eyes fluttered shut as he sagged limply against the floor, dead asleep.

Everyone was quiet for a long moment, and then Red asked, “okay, what the  _ fuck  _ was that?”

“HE’LL BE OKAY, WON’T HE? WHAT HAPPENED?” Blue asked, hands unconsciously fisting in the shoulders of his brother’s hoody.

Myst sighed heavily and sat back on the carpet, picking absently at the knotted rope around his ankles. “It’s all rather complicated, I’m afraid,” he said. “But, yes, your brother should be fine when he wakes up. That was just a bit of hypnosis to help him process what he saw and make it less… fresh in his mind, as though it happened a very long time ago.”

Now that the immediate danger seemed to have passed, the skeletons around you were growing restless again. Before they could do anything, though, you pushed your way into the living room and suggested to Blue and Papyrus, “How about you guys go put Stretch up in his room so he can sleep whatever that was, off.”

“YES, OF COURSE,” Papyrus immediately agreed, then lightly nudged Blue. “I’LL CARRY HIM IF YOU’LL GET THE DOOR TO HIS ROOM,” he said. You knew full well that he could have managed just fine on his own, but you and Papyrus both recognized that seeing his brother situated comfortably would go a long ways towards settling Blue himself.

“YEAH, ALRIGHT,” the shorter skeleton nodded, then shifted some so Papyrus could slip his arms under Stretch’s lanky form and rise to his feet in one fluid movement. “DON’T START WITHOUT US,” Blue added as the group parted so they could pass, frowning at the lot of them. “I HAVE A RIGHT TO HEAR THIS TOO.”

Myst finished untying the rope around one ankle as they left, and had started on the other when Edge abruptly crossed the room and thrust the length of rope he’d used to bind the strange monster’s wrists towards him. “YOU COULD HAVE ESCAPED ANY TIME.”

It was a statement, not a question, and it occured to you that Edge was right as you looked between him and Myst. The latter glanced up at him, and then back down at his work. “Yes, Captain, I could have.” He paused and smiled a little at the taller monster before adding, “Not from your rather cunning trap, mind. Just from the bindings you placed me in once you had set me free.”

Edge narrowed his eyes as his grip on the rope tightened. “FLATTERY WILL GET YOU NOWHERE, INTERLOPER! WHY PLAY ALONG? WHAT WAS THE POINT OF ALL THIS?”

Myst chuckled quietly as he successfully untied the second knot, then picked up both pieces of rope and offered them back to Edge, who scoffed and refused to take them. “Your knot work is very good, you know. I almost couldn’t get free.”

The monster snorted again and turned his head sharply away, though anyone familiar with him would have noticed the faint blush that crept across his angular cheeks. “I  _ SAID  _ THAT FLATTERY WILL GET YOU NOWHERE!”

“Not even if it’s true?” Myst asked with a smile as he got to his feet and absently coiled the rope neatly around one hand then stuck it in the bag at his hip.

“you let him take you because this is exactly where you wanted to be, isn’t it?” Sans asked as he dropped onto the sofa with a tired sigh. Red took the opposite side, and you settled yourself into the center.

“He did say he was looking for advanced technology,” you recalled.

Beside you, Sans and Red both tensed, then spoke simultaneously.

“what makes you think we have any?” Sans asked as Red demanded “what for?”

Blue and Papyrus both returned at that moment and settled themselves in to listen. Edge refused to take a seat, but leaned against the nearest wall, eye sockets still narrowed and focused pointedly on Myst, who remained standing in the center of the living room.

The newcomer glanced around the room at the assembled monsters and yourself, a thoughtful expression on his face before he lifted one wrist and pushed up the sleeve of his black sweater. He wore a leather cuff with some sort of screen interface embedded in it, and when he brushed it with his dark fingertips, it lit up, then projected a hologram into the air above it.

“WOW! THAT IS SO COOL,” Papyrus said. “HOW DID YOU-”

“bro,” Sans said with a sigh, “maybe later, huh?”

Chastened, Papyrus cleared his throat and sat attentively next to Blue, who also appeared intrigued, though no doubt concern for his brother took precident in the moment. “I’M SORRY, PLEASE CONTINUE!”

Myst smiled a little at the other skeleton before turning his attention back to what appeared to be a three dimensional map. “I  _ know  _ there is some source of particularly advanced technology in this vicinity, because this device is programmed to detect it,” he explained. “Whatever it is, it far outstrips everything else in the region, so I came to find out what it was.” Red shifted impatiently, and Myst pressed on. “As for  _ why _ I am looking for such a thing, well… I have a machine that requires repairs I am unable to make myself.”

“SO YOU LOOK FOR ADVANCED TECH, FIGURING THAT IF YOU FIND ANY, THERE WILL BE SOMEONE THERE THAT KNOWS HOW IT WORKS AND MIGHT BE ABLE TO HELP YOU!” Blue guessed and Myst nodded.

“Precisely.”

“What kind of machine is it?” you asked curiously, glancing sidelong at Sans and wondering if it was anything like the one he and the others had been working on.

“I...” Myst hesitated noticeably and glanced around the room again. “It’s not something that I generally share with strangers. The possibility of people finding out about it could be dangerous for more than just myself.”

“fucking convenient,” Red drawled, unimpressed as he scratched absently at the bridge of his nasal bone.

The caped skeleton was quiet for a minute before finally saying, “Perhaps, given your own circumstances, however, sharing would not be  _ too  _ dangerous.” He glanced at Blue and said, “It does, after all, involve the effect I had on your brother.”

Blue leaned in a little closer, clearly hoping for more even as Myst glanced towards Edge. The taller monster arched a brow as if asking why he was looking at  _ him,  _ and Myst turned away again.

Finally, the skeleton heaved a sigh and began to explain.

“I am, when it comes right down to it, not so very different from yourselves,” he began, pacing absently around the room as he spoke. “This reality is not my own, nor is it the first I have visited.”

The statement seemed to peak everyone’s interest, including your own. Obviously you knew that your roommates came from different realities, but to find out that there was someone able to traveled between them at will was fascinating.

“In my home reality I was a scientist, much as I assume at least a few of you here are if my experience with other versions of yourselves is anything to go by.” Sans and Red shared a look and nodded, confirming Myst’s suspicion. “Like in many realities, monsterkind had been trapped in the Underground for generations with little hope of escape. So, while some focused on attempting to break the barrier, I turned my attention to the possibility of leaving by another route.”

“instead of trying to pass through the barrier, you tried to leave the reality entirely,” Red guessed, brows lifting, seeming impressed. “clever,” he admitted grudgingly.

“I certainly thought so at the time,” Myst mused with a bitter smile as he stopped next to a window and stared at the snowy world outside for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. “My machine, the ‘Gray Room’, I call it, took me years to build, and it seemed only right to test it on myself when the time came.”

The monster’s mood sombered further, all hint of a smile gone, though you hung on his every word, waiting for him to continue. A brief look around the room told you you weren’t the only one.

“It worked, of course,” Myst said. “Unfortunately, there were… side effects, as your brother found out today,” he continued, glancing at Blue. “The Gray Room successfully took me from my reality and into another, but what that did to my soul in the process… well, it’s something I’m still attempting to figure out the details on.” His mouth twisted wryly at the admission. “My running theory is that all iterations of a person’s soul in every reality are bound together across time and space by some unseen force. Most likely, the Gray Room became overwhelmed by all the variables presented by moving a soul tied in such a way from one reality to another and tried to consolidate them. It transcends reality, after all, rather than passing through a physical space like the void...”

Sans and Red stared for a long minute before the former spoke while the latter released a low whistle and sagged back into the cushions of the sofa. “you’re an amalgamate? lots of people all combined into one?”

“Of a sort,” Myst admitted, gaze dropping to his hands as he fiddled absently with his cuff. “It’s a great deal more complicated than that, but… that cuts to the core of the matter, I suppose. The majority of my most recent memories leading up to the accident seem to belong to the version of myself that first used the Gray Room, but the further back you go, the more likely the memory belongs to… other versions of me.”

Everyone was silent and Myst sighed again. It occurred to you that the awkwardness of admitting that he was technically a lot of people all combined into one was likely one of the major reasons he didn’t often share his story.

“SO,” Blue said, finally breaking the silence that had fallen over the room. “PAPY WAS… UPSET EARLIER BECAUSE HE COULD SEE  _ ALL  _ YOUR SOULS?” he hazarded.

Seeming relieved to keep the conversation moving, Myst nodded. “I am, at my core, something of a paradox,” he mused. “It shouldn’t be possible for so many versions of the same soul to exist in the same place in both time and space, but,” and here he spread his arms with a rueful smile. “Here I am.”

“SO YOU’RE LOOKING FOR SOMEONE TO FIX YOUR MISTAKE FOR YOU?” Edge asked, ignoring the sharp look you gave him.

“No,” Myst said. “My own research on the matter has convinced me that there is no ‘fixing’ what was done to me. Even if there  _ was,  _ when the Gray Room took me out of my reality,  _ all _ my realities, it left a hole of sorts where I had been.” The monster went quiet again for a moment, an unhappy expression on his angular features. He gave himself a shake, then continued, “That hole healed over in my absence, brief though it was. The universe always acts to balance itself, to keep itself intact, so it patched its wound, and in the process, eliminated all memory that I had ever existed.” His smile was thin and tight as he said, “It’s entirely possible that I knew one, or even all of you, at one point in time, but you no longer remember, and I no longer have easy access to the memories of my other lives.”

“IF YOU'RE NOT TRYING TO FIX WHAT HAPPENED, THEN WHAT IS IT YOU NEED HELP WITH?” Papyrus asked curiously.

“Two things, actually,” Myst admitted. “I need to find someone who can help me refine the Gray Room so that it is able to fulfill its purpose and transport my people from their reality and into a new one without suffering the same fate as myself.” The implications of his statement didn't escape anyone in the room. If Myst  _ didn't  _ fix his machine before making the attempt, and there was a version of Papyrus and Sans among them... all of your friends would be fused together with every other iteration of themselves across time and space. More than one of them shuddered at the thought.

“I also-” Myst paused, and a soft huff of a laugh escaped him before he forced himself to continue, obviously embarrassed. “I also require the assistance of someone that might be able to help me pinpoint just which reality  _ is  _ my own, or the first point is entirely moot.”

“YOU MADE A MACHINE TO TAKE YOU TO ANOTHER UNIVERSE AND TESTED IT WITHOUT MAKING A WAY TO FIND YOUR WAY BACK?” Edge demanded. “THAT IS COMPLETELY IDIOTIC!”

“HEY! DON'T CALL HIM AN IDIOT! I'D LIKE TO SEE  _ YOU  _ BUILD AN INTERDIMENSIONAL TRAVELLING MACHINE!” Blue objected on Myst's behalf, scowling over at Edge from where he sat.

Red snorted. “nah, i'm with boss on this one.”

Myst held up his hands for quiet, and in the following lull, said, “I  _ did,  _ in fact, construct a recall device in my home reality before leaving it. However, because I ceased to exist there once I left, it was as though it had never been built.”

Papyrus' brow furrowed in thought as he asked, “BY THAT ARGUMENT, SHOULDN'T YOUR MACHINE HAVE CEASED TO EXIST AS WELL?”

“One would be forgiven for thinking so,” the dark skeleton mused. “However, in the process of removing itself from reality, little details such as who built it, where, and when no longer seem to apply.”

“sounds like a helluva conundrum,” a new voice remarked as the television flickered on, revealing Q in his administrator uniform, a thoughtful expression on his face.

Sans opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, Myst exclaimed, “Q!”

“You know each other?” you asked, surprised and confused by the revelation. Q himself had told you just a little while before that he’d never even heard of Myst, after all.

“Yes, I've known Q for years,” Myst said, seeming pleased indeed to have found a familiar face. He advanced towards the tv and sat before it, smiling. “I bump into him occasionally as I travel since-” The monster paused then, finally seeming to take notice of the look of confusion on Q's face. His smile faded and his brow furrowed thoughtfully. “You... have no idea who I am, do you?”

“pretty sure i'd remember a face like yours, buddy,” Q remarked with a snort of amusement. “or story for that matter.”

“Oh wow,” Myst muttered and reached into his bag to pull out a leather bound journal. “I knew there would have to be a day when I'd finally run into a version of you that didn't know me, but-” The monster went still then, sockets widening fractionally as he suddenly looked back at you and the other monsters, some manner of understanding coming over him. “Then this...” his gaze flicked to you and then darted away again as he turned back to Q.

“care to share?” the A.I. mused, one brow lifting.

Myst opened his mouth to answer, then closed it almost immediately with a frown. Finally, he said, “I really don’t think I should, actually. Time flows strangely between realities, so every other time I’ve met you, you’ve been… older. Significantly older, I suspect.”

“how  _ much  _ older?” Q asked, seeming more intrigued than ever.

“Significantly,” Myst repeated vaguely, making the digital monster roll his eyelights. “Enough so that I don’t actually think you’re going to be able to help me at all. Not as you are now.”

Your eyebrows shot up, and behind you, one of the skeletons struggled to muffle a snort at the almost offended expression on Q’s face at the other monster’s statement.

“try me,” he replied with a tight smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed! There's a link up in the top author notes to Myst's faq on my UT blog. You can also drop him, Q, or any of the other main characters from my fics an ask there!  
> More interesting interactions next time, I promise XD Unfortunately, Myst kinda... takes some explaining, heh.  
> Remember to drop a review if you enjoyed and let me know what your favorite part was!  
> Want to show a little extra appreciation? You can always [buy me a ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/A7474IDS)!


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